


Don't Look Back

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Post-Canon, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-22
Updated: 2010-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 08:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He told her he'd be there for Gryffindor's first match against Hufflepuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Look Back

Sitting in the stands under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry felt like a ghost – at least until someone accidentally elbowed him in the arm, and someone else nearly tripped over his outstretched foot. Half-chagrined, half-amused by the confusion he’d caused, Harry slunk further to the side, tucking his legs up against his chest and hugging them.

If he’d been smart, he thought, he’d have found a spot off the stands altogether, maybe close to where Sirius used to crouch in dog-form, and watch his Quidditch matches, when he’d been younger. The thought had occurred to him on his way up north to Hogwarts, but once he’d arrived, and felt the October sunlight on the back of his neck, and the crisp breeze in his hair, he’d wanted to be close to his old schoolmates, albeit anonymously.

At least he had a good view of the Quidditch pitch. He could see everything from where he sat – even if everything was a blur of scarlet and gold uniforms, and the occasional flash of the Quaffle or one of the two Bludgers. He could tell Ginny by the coppery gleam of her hair – and by her skill on the broomstick, Harry thought with frank admiration. She swooped and dove with a strong grace that reminded him of certain seabirds. A part of him wished she’d pause and glance in his direction – he’d told her he’d be there for Gryffindor’s first match against Hufflepuff, though not where he’d be sitting – but she was intent on the game.

Luna Lovegood’s amplified voice could be heard above the roar of the crowd, and the snap of the banners in the wind: “Ginny Weasley is the best captain Gryffindor has had since Oliver Wood. Rumor has it that a professional Quidditch team is looking to recruit her after she finishes at Hogwarts…”

Harry started. Ginny hadn’t told him that. Then he remembered the source of the information.

“You can read all about it in next week’s _Quibbler_ ,” Luna continued breathily.

“No advertising, Miss Lovegood.” Professor McGonagall’s voice was a tart as Harry remembered, and he couldn’t help grinning.

Looking back on last year, there were few things he would have done differently, he supposed. There were few things he _could_ have done differently without foreknowledge. Still, he was sorry he’d missed his final year here. McGonagall had told him he could come back if he wanted, as could Ron and Hermione. They’d all been tempted, but they’d all said no. Ron was working with George at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes; he had no head for business and wasn’t especially inventive, but he was needed there, he’d told Harry. Kingsley Shacklebolt himself had offered Hermione a job at the Ministry; he’d promised there’d still be an opening if she wanted to go back to school for a year, but she’d accepted the position – which had something to do with house-elf rights – then and there.

As for Harry… He’d been tempted, but he’d known it wasn’t right, even though it would have meant being closer to Ginny. He was done with school, done with theory, done with lessons. Going back for another year would have been… Not pointless exactly, because it could have been fun, but…

He didn’t need it.

What he needed, he thought, his grin broadening, was the red-haired girl who’d just caught sight of the Golden Snitch, and was barreling toward it, ahead of the Hufflepuff Seeker. Harry leaped to his feet and screamed along with all the other scarlet-clad students and teachers as Ginny dropped low, rolled onto her back, the ends of her long ponytail brushing the grass, and closed her hand around the Snitch.

Unseen and unheard, Harry felt – not like a ghost, but some other sort of joyous spirit – as if he were soaring with her, back up into the sparkling autumn air. How could he possibly look back with regret? He couldn’t – not when his future was so vivid, and right there in front of him.

8/1/2010


End file.
